


Love is Blind

by jqueen17



Category: Phan
Genre: Angst, Blindness, Feels, Hospitals, Injury, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-09
Updated: 2016-06-09
Packaged: 2018-07-13 23:35:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7142942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jqueen17/pseuds/jqueen17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Description: A blind!Dan AU in which Dan has an accident that causes him to lose his sight, and Phil has to struggle to help him because of his independent attitude.</p>
<p>Warnings: Blindness, angsty fluff, some swearing, mostly the usual but if blindness is one of your triggers PLEASE BE CAUTIOUS!</p>
<p>Length: 9,704</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love is Blind

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was edited by the lovely @marimandic on tumblr- big shout out to her for being an amazing editor and coming up with this fantastic title:P If you like this type of fic please let me know, and if you have some time go check out @marimandic‘s blog; definitely worth a follow!!:)  
> Enjoy!

Dan  
I’m still not sure what possessed me to bend over to tie my shoe in front of a pot of boiling water, but alas, I did. I had bought a new pair of sneakers last week (ugh I know, sneakers, I'm sorry), and the ridiculous laces had been coming untied all week.   
The water was for tea, because yeah, I like tea, okay? Phil had coffee going on the other counter, so I wasn't alone in obsessing over a hot beverage.  
But if anyone knows anything about Daniel James Howell, it's that I am clumsy as shit. And accident prone. So I bent over, my shoulder smacking the handle of the pot which my mum had warned me time and time again to make sure was facing the opposite direction, and it all went downhill from there. Very, very downhill. 

So here I was, waking up from a deep, painful sleep in a room that was freezing cold. Well, waking up is putting it kindly. Actual 'waking up' involves the act of opening your eyes, rubbing the sleep out of them, and not feeling like you've been hit by a train and then run back over by it. I lifted my hands to my eyes, since I couldn't seem to open them, only to encounter a wave of pain after my fingers collided with a thick material wrapped over my face.I hate to admit it, but I began to panic. Because when you can't see, and you don't know why, it freaks you out just a tad. 

I knew I was medicated by now, judging by the grogginess in my limbs and the underlying pain in my face, so my voice was mangled as I cried out to anyone listening.

"Dan, Dan shhh. It's okay. You're okay. It's just me."  
Phil's voice immediately calmed me, always having had the effect on me, since 2009. I let him grasp my frantic hands in his own, placing them back at my sides but keeping a tight hold on one of them. His were cool and dry, while mine felt flushed and clammy. Panicky.  
"Dan, can you hear me?"

I tried nodding, the jerky movement causing me to feel like I was getting stabbed in the face.  
"Y-yeah, Phil. But I can't see you."  
My voice rose again with panic, and I tried reaching back up to touch a face that didn't feel like my own. However, Phil was faster, grabbing my hands and pinning them firmly but gently at my sides again.

"Dan, bear, stop. I know you can't see me. You've got a bandage over your eyes."

A jolt of shock ran through me, even though it shouldn't have surprised me. Of course I did. Of course I was in the hospital. Because of the water.  
"Ph-Phil, am I blind? Please tell me I'm not blind. Phil?!?" I really wasn't the calmer of the two of us, because Phil had to shakily brush the hair out of my eyes just to quiet my frantic questions. When he answered, however, his voice was just as shaky as his hand was on my hair.

"It's... temporary. The doctor said... she said you could make a full recovery, but..."

"But what, Phil?"

 

He paused way too long for my liking, and I couldn't see his face so I had no idea why, and it was infuriating.  
"But the chances of that are very low."

I was stunned silent, not wanting to believe it. Because... because I couldn't be blind. No way. No. I loved my eyes, I loved seeing, loved winking, and loved making faces and staring at- 

"I'm sorry, Dan. I'm so, so sorry. Is there anything... anything I can do, right now, to help?"

I sighed, too tired, defeated, and medicated to have an existential crisis right here, right now, over a sense I should never have been robbed of by my own sense of balance.  
"Just stay, please. Don't leave me here. I can't... I'm scared, Phil. I can't see and I'm scared and I'm tired."  
I felt his hand squeeze around mine, and he sniffed before he forced out, "I know, Dan. I'm here. I'll always be here."

 

I had to remain in the hospital for three more nights. There were extreme second-degree burns around my eyes, face, and right side of my head. My eyes were a different story altogether.

The full force of the water had hit me in the eyes, the pan itself as well, and despite Phil’s immediate dialling of 999 and attentive care to cool my face down as quickly as possible, it was still worse than expected.

The worst part was that I could tell Phil blamed himself, the silly bastard, because his voice had always been the second most revealing attribute he possessed (one in which I knew well). His eyes were the first, but those were not an option to go by right now.

“Is there anything I can do right now?” Phil asked, his hands fluttering beside me as he searched for something to do.

“Phil, I’m fine. I promise.”

I heard his tongue click, his habit when he was feeling frustrated. I wanted to reassure him, but I was in no position to do anything but lay here as Phil tried to distract me with silly banter. I tuned him out, however, because his voice was guilt-ridden and I would have given anything for it to stop sounding like that. 

 

“Is PJ here yet?”  
We were waiting in the parking lot for PJ, since the guy was the only friend we knew of in London who owned a car. I begged Phil to call him, begged him not to make me endure the stares of hundreds of people on the Tube. With some begging, he had conceded because he couldn’t say no to me right now, drugged, scared, and miserable. I hated knowing I was so pitiful and vulnerable. It wasn’t a good look for anyone, me especially.

“Pulling in right now, Mr. Impatient.”

I didn’t know if he was staring at me, but I forced a smile just in case he was. I heard a car door slam a few moments later as Phil took me by the arm and helped me to my feet. I was bombarded by two arms that I, fortunately, knew were PJ’s. He had always smelled like fire for some reason, fire and spices, which was an odd but very comforting smell, especially right now.  
“Hey, Dan. Haven’t seen you in forever, mate.”

I gave him a half-smile, cracking a joke to cover up the sound of my pounding heart his unexpected hug had caused to go into overdrive. “Haven’t seen you in longer.”

No one laughed, and that made the entire situation so, so much worse. I was trying to show them that I was fine, that this wasn’t affecting me as much as they thought it was. Just to back up that point, I stepped towards where I heard the car pull up. I, of course, instantly wobbled like I was wasted, and Phil was there in a flash, grabbing my arm and steadying me.  
“Hey, slow down there. Scared me for a minute.”

I tried to shrug him off, but he kept an insistent hand on my arm. I let him guide me to the car, because I knew I was helpless without him. I had no depth perception,sense of direction, or spacial awareness, and it pissed me off to no end.

As we sat in the back of PJ’s car, the bumps being the only reason I knew we were moving, Phil leaned over and whispered, “Did he startle you, back there?”  
I nodded, and Phil patted my hand, that simple little gesture speaking volumes. 

I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew, Phil was helping me up the stairs of the flat.

“I swear, if they don't get that damned lift fixed soon I'm demanding a rent decrease.”

“Phil, language,” I teased, knowing he had always hated the stairs and his sudden outburst was only partially due to my situation. He grumbled something unintelligible, and I knew he was pouting The thought made me smile with his immaturity. 

Once we'd finally made it to our door, Phil let go of my arm for a moment to get his keys out of the bag he was carrying. I felt a flash of fear, not knowing where anything was and feeling the space press against me, endless, empty, and dangerous. I never before appreciated knowing where the walls were. It made my heart drop to my stomach, twisting in my gut uncomfortably until I felt Phil's cool fingers brush my skin, guiding me through the door.

I thought I'd be okay, on our flat, with finding my way around. The was my home, the most familiar place in the world to me. Except, it wasn't. Not anymore. It was as vast as the hall had been, except this time I knew where the rooms were, but couldn't see them or sense them. I stepped forward, towards where I knew the kitchen was, and stumbled immediately, tripping over the shag rug Phil had bought at a small market a few months ago. Phil caught me, steering me to the couch and sitting me down in my favorite spot, clicking the TV on. 

And I burst into tears.

A bad choice, honestly, since the tears stung my unseeing eyes and the burns scattered across my cheekbones. But it really wasn't a choice at all. I simply couldn't bear the thought of being a stranger in my own home, the one place I had always felt safe. I felt safe because at least if there was a threat, I could see it–prepare for it–but just like with PJ earlier, things were taking me by surprise when I least expected them, and I didn’t like it, not one bit. 

Phil made a small sound, one so quiet and withheld that I couldn’t detect the emotion behind it, and sat beside me, wrapping his arms around my shoulders. My face was buried in the crook of his neck and shoulder, stinging but not being enough to make me lean away from the only comfort I could find right now.

“Dan, please don’t cry. I promise, it’ll get better. I’ll help make it better. Okay?”

I nodded, still hiccupping and sniffling, and Phil held me in silence for a long time, rocking back and forth gently in an attempt to calm me down. It worked slowly, eventually leaving the silence to only be broken by my semi-ragged breathing and the dull background noise of a show playing on the TV. I leaned back first, knowing that Phil never would until I let him know I was okay again. I knew he had to be staring at me, because I didn’t burst into random tears for no reason at all. Well, I didn’t very often.

“Good?”

I nodded, running a hand over my fringe for the first time in what felt like years. My hair was curly and messy and probably gross, so I sighed, standing with as much confidence as I could muster while not moving a centimeter beyond that.

“Will you be so kind as to guide me to the bathroom, please?”

Phil chuckled, and I heard his weight leave the couch a second before his hand was on my arm again, steering me through the house. As we slowed to a stop, I tugged Phil further down the hall, knowing my room was some distance down it.

“I need clothes. Wait here and don’t worry, I’ll be fine, it’s my room and I’m figuring out my way around it if I kill myself in the process.”

I could practically feel Phil’s hesitance, but I groped the door for the handle and closed it behind me before he could object. I was not going to be completely helpless. In my own house, sure, but not in my own room. 

I took a deep breath, conjuring up a picture in my mind of my hell hole of a room. “Okay, bed, left.”

I walked slowly and carefully to the left, extending my arms at my waist to feel for the bed. I knocked my knee against the bedside table, muttering a curse word before finding the bed. I didn’t sit, simply feeling my way around my room first. I then made my way around the bed and to the dresser pushed against the left wall, being careful not to knock my random crap into the floor. I knew I smudged fingerprints on my mirror as I felt my way around the room, but didn’t mind as much as I would have otherwise. I felt proud that I moved my foot to feel for my chrome chair before I could trip over the thing, thinking that maybe, just maybe, I was getting the hang of this. My desk was next, and I felt around for my chair first, which was luckily shoved all the way under the desk. The wardrobe, my piano, loud against my clumsy fingers, and then I took a deep breath, braving myself for what I needed to do next.  
I turned, stepping into the middle of the room and trying to remember if anything was on the floor. 

Even though I was going slow, I was going.  
A small smile bloomed on my face, because there was no one helping me, nothing to grab if I tripped, and that danger and independence I felt was the best thing I’d felt since ruining my own life. 

I made my way over to my wardrobe, stumbling only a little, and opened the doors. I pushed the air out of my lungs slowly, a huge exhale, knowing locating suitable clothes would be one thing I would need to figure out, sooner or later. So I reached a hand into the wardrobe, running it over the shirts and pants assembled semi-neatly inside. I took time to rub each article of clothing between my fingers, feeling the material and trying to guess what shirt I was holding. I wasn’t sure on a few, but I could definitely identify a few jumpers,my moth shirt, and my zipper jacket, and of course mostly skinny jeans and some sweat pants. I chose my softest pair of sweats, plain black, I knew, whatever pair of boxer I pulled out first, and my circle eclipse shirt, because that shirt was so worn and comfortable that I knew it by heart.

I made it back to the door with my clothes in hand, opening it and feeling the air shift as Phil moved- I assumed he’d been sitting, and had stood up quickly lest I walk out and trip over him- and I held the clothes up for him to see.

“Black sweats and my circle shirt?”

He didn’t answer for a moment, and I wondered if I had someone gotten it completely wrong, if he didn’t want to ruin my pride, or if I had somehow chosen grey sweats or another shirt. But after a long moment he laughed, somewhat disbelievingly, and I knew he was smiling because I could hear it in his voice.

“I’m impressed. You sure do know your clothes, you spork.”  
And I grinned, because that one small accomplishment was enough to make me nearly cry from relief. I had done something completely by myself, despite everything. Despite my clumsiness and my messy room and the dull throb in my face, I had proven to myself that I could do something, even if it was miniscule, by myself.

The shower was a different story entirely. I stood in front of the bathroom door for a long time, wondering how to execute this particular task right now without humiliating myself or Phil. I most certainly could not shower by myself, or I would die. But if I took a bath, I could still slip and die. And shampoo, on these burns, was probably not recommended by anyone.   
So, what, then? 

Phil could help me, but was I really okay with that? No, if I was being honest. I was not okay with my best friend seeing me wet and naked and cold and vulnerable, while I couldn’t even see what his face looked like. 

“Dan, stop.”

I turned my head towards Phil’s voice, pursing my lips in confusion since furrowing my eyebrows hurt.

“What?”

“You’re lip is bleeding. You keep biting it.”

I licked my lip, and sure enough, I tasted blood.

“Dan?”

Phil’s voice was soft, and it made me feel simultaneously nervous and reassured. Phil had that way of speaking, that comforting, infuriating tone that he’d only use on me when I wouldn’t stop having an existential crisis or I was stressing out about something.

“I’m going to get you some medicine, and then we’re going to clean your burns, and then I am going to help you take a bath. And you can fight it all you want but I am going to help you, because you’re my best friend and I want to. Are we clear?”

The assertion in Phil’s voice was shocking, and I flushed a little, knowing he had seen it on my face. Phil wasn’t usually so dominant, and I liked it when he was. It didn’t give me room to question anything, and besides, I was better at following directions anyway. So I let him lead me into the kitchen, leaning against the counter while he grabbed the salve the doctor had sent with us and the extra bandages. I heard a pill bottle rattle, and winced at the thought of swallowing those damned things. But when Phil handed me three and a glass of water, I did so without hesitance, because the pain really was flaring up and I needed my mind to be groggy for what was about to happen.

Oh, and groggy it was. By the time we made it back to the bathroom I was stumbling, and not just because of my inability to see. I managed to get undressed, needing only a little help from Phil with my shirt snagging over my bandage. Phil had said we were cleaning my burns first, so I stood still while he arranged the bathroom the way he needed it. I was just struggling not to fall over.

“Okay, Dan. Come over here. Do you need my help?”

I shook my head, slowly feeling my way the short distance to Phil and the bathroom counter. I felt a small twinge of pride that I had managed that, while being technically intoxicated and fully blind. Phil ordered me to hop up onto the counter, which I did, surprisingly easily. If I could feel my surroundings, moving around really wasn’t so hard. Or maybe I was just high.

As Phil began by removing my current bandage, I felt the cool air hit my face, hissing at the sudden change in temperature. Phil’s hands were fluttering near my face, unsure what to do and definitely not expecting my reaction.

“No, do it, I’m fine. It just stings a little.”

Stings like a motherfucking hornet. But I left that detail out, for Phil’s sake.

“Okay, I’m going to start by cleaning the burns on your skin. I’m sorry.”

I hated him apologizing, so I gritted my teeth as Phil patted the wet cloth over my cheeks and by my eyes, so gentle I couldn’t believe he had this much patience. But he did. Of course he did. He was Phil Lester.  
I couldn’t resist raising my hand to smooth my fringe, my hand bumping against the side of my head and making me yelp.

“My head got burned? My hair?”

Phil’s voice was just suppressing amusement as he answered, trying to be grave and serious as I freaked out over the area where way more hair should be above my ear. “Well, yes, but it doesn’t look too bad. After the burns heal you can get the sides shaved, like you did that time before. It didn’t look bad at all; people liked it.”

I nodded, calming my silly fears that I would have to cut too much hair off. I loved my hair, and I’m not sorry.

Phil picked something up off the counter beside me, and I heard him fiddle with it for too long.

“What next?” I asked, guessing correctly.

“Um, the eye medicine. Just like eye drops, I promise. But it’s going to hurt.” I nodded once, and Phil tilted my chin up, keeping one hand resting on the top of my head.

“The liquid just has to seep into your eyes, and we'll be done with this part. Ready?”

I nodded again, bracing myself. The liquid was like cold fire in my eye, making me gasp and writhe to try and get away from Phil, even though I knew it wasn't his fault and I knew I wasn't supposed to. But he kept a firm hold on my head, anticipating my reaction. My feet kicked against the counter and I cried out, honestly thinking my eyelid was about to catch on fire, it hurt so bad. But the pain gradually dissipated into the same stinging, dull stabbing as before, and I breathed heavily, knowing we weren't done yet.

“Here, Dan, hold my hand.”

“What?” I gasped, still sucking in the air I hadn't been utilizing during the whole ordeal. “Why?”  
Phil made a sound of amusement, responding gently.

“Because you need something to hold onto and focus on, and I think it'll help.”

“I'll break your hand,” I warned, really not wanting to hurt Phil when all he was trying to do was help me.

“I don't care. Lay your head down on the counter.”

I shrugged, following his instructions and clasping his hand in one of my own. 

“This is silly, Phil.”

“I'm a silly person.”

I couldn't disagree with that. As soon as the second drop hit my other eye, Phil's other hand was on my head, pressing it against the counter and not allowing me to move it. I squeezed his hand involuntarily, clenching my teeth and trying to breathe through this hell. His hand squeezed back, not letting go, and his thumb began bumping it's way over my knuckles in a soothing, random pattern. I focused on that, on that completely different sensation than the one dominating my face, and sooner than I expected, my face wasn't on fire anymore.

“Was that better?”

I smiled in the general direction of his voice, and he let out a sigh of relief, his breath smelling like coffee and mint.

“Good.”

After he applied the salve to my burns, I heard the bath water turn on, remembering what I had to do next. This was bound to be awkward and painful for the both of us, and I really wasn't looking forward to it at all.

But it went smoother than either of us had thought it would, I'm sure. After I sat down in the warm water, I realized the tub was filled with bubbles up to my chest that smelled sweet and clean and warm.

“Are this many bubbles really necessary, Phil?”

I could practically hear his grin as he adjusted some things on the side of the tub, where he was sitting somewhat precariously on the edge.

“Um, yes?”

I snickered, knowing Phil was a child at heart and loved silly crap like bubble baths. But as Phil clicked away on his phone and I washed my arms, I realized Phil had an ulterior motive for the bubbles. Water is see-through; bubbles are not. And for that one little gesture, I was endlessly grateful, because it smoothed the awkwardness that I had been worried about since I had agreed to this.

After I was done with my part, Phil uncapped a bottle, pausing for a moment.

“I'm not getting it in your eyes, I promise, but tilt your head back just a little?”

“Mmhmm,” I answered, doing as he said and letting him wash my hair. It really should have been weird, his fingers threading their way through my hair and working the shampoo into it, more gently than I thought possible. It really should have been weird, me nearly falling asleep because Phil was humming, and wasn't by any stretch a bad singer in the first place, and I was warm. And it really, really should have been weird that Phil's hands on the back and sides of my neck didn't bother me one bit. As a matter of fact, I kind of liked it. But none of it was weird, for either of us. And I knew it wasn't weird for Phil, because he was perfectly relaxed and at ease, like Phil always was. 

 

I must have dozed off, because Phil tapping my shoulder startled me a little.   
“Dan, you can stand up now. We're done.”

I nodded sleepily, somehow managing to pull my boxers and sweats on and completely ignore my shirt. Phil redressed my bandages, and I barely felt the pain. I let him lead me to my room,and the next thing I knew, he was sitting on my bed and pulling the duvet back.

“Thank you, Phil.”

He paused in his flurry of movement, reaching over to squeeze my hand once, twice, three times. “My pleasure.”

I lay back, pulling the covers over myself and smiling in Phil's general direction. Sleep took me faster than I expected, and the last thing I heard was Phil whisper something I couldn't quite catch and the door clicking shut behind him.

Phil  
I really didn't want to leave Dan alone, but I made myself, knowing that if he thought I thought he couldn't handle himself, he'd be furious. 

But the thing was, he couldn't. The doctor had explained this to me–the simple fact that Dan had never been blind before and adapting to it could take time. The doctor had said he would need help,and that if I hadn't volunteered to look after and take care of him, a nurse would have been given the job. I'd volunteered because I knew how Dan would respond to that, and knew that the nurse would probably not respond well to Dan's stubbornness. 

However, his stubbornness was no match for my bossy attitude that only surfaced when absolutely necessary. I knew that, so here I was, sat outside Dan's door because I knew if he got up to do something in the middle of the night like he tended to do, he could hurt himself really badly. Especially considering the ridiculous amount of stairs in our flat.   
I would just have to be careful and not get caught.  
However, I was absolutely exhausted, considering I hadn’t slept for nearly forty-eight hours straight. And who could blame me? It’s not every day that your best friend gets his face fried by a pot of water that you should have been boiling in the first place. I was despicable, I wouldn’t deny that. But I was also very, very sleepy.

A loud crash woke me up, followed by a string of curse words that let me know it was most certainly Dan. I stood quickly, maybe too quickly, since the rush of blood to my head was anything but pleasant.

“Dan?” I called through the door, knocking quietly. Silence spread through the room, and I knew he was trying to cover up whatever had just happened. And I might have believed it, had I not been camped directly outside his door.

“I’m coming in.”

I opened the door to see Dan on the floor, as I’d already suspected, with the contents of his bedside table scattered around him, his foot tangled in a towel.

“Shit, Dan, are you alright?” I burst out, crouching beside him and righting the table, beginning to reorganize the mess of randomness. Dan unwrapped the towel from around his foot, tossing it behind him on to what I guessed he assumed was the bed, but ended up just being the middle of the room. I reminded myself to toss it in the laundry later.

“Yes, now stop cursing. It’s freaking me out.”

I wasn’t amused, and he must have known, since he held back a sigh and swept his hand across the floor, picking some things up as well.

“Seriously, Phil, I’m fine. I rolled off the bed, that’s all. Do it all the time.”

I wanted to give a pointed look at the towel, but he couldn’t see it anyway, so I just stayed silent. He knew I’d seen it wrapped around his foot, and I could also see the blood that was trickling from the back of his shoulder, despite his best efforts to point it away from me. 

“You’re bleeding, Dan. Quit lying.”

His face paled, and he slowly let out a sigh, accepting his defeat. We cleaned in silence, Dan knowing where things went by touch.

All I wanted to do was cry. This wasn’t fair, to me or especially to Dan, and I hated seeing my best friend get hurt, let alone when neither of us could prevent every little accident from happening. Dan was a danger to himself, even if he didn’t know it and that stubbornness and refusal to ask for help was going to be the downfall of him.  
And I wasn’t going to stand by and just watch it happen.

I grabbed his hand, pulling him to his feet and leading him into the lounge, where I rummaged through the junk closet and located the first aid kit we kept in there. We were both getting stupidly injured on a good day, so it wasn’t like it was never put to use.

I pulled hydrogen peroxide and a clean cloth out of the kit, along with a sizable band aid, since Dan must’ve hit the table harder than I had first thought, judging by the amount of blood trickling down his back. I pressed the cloth against the bottom of his back, letting the hydrogen peroxide I poured onto the cut to run down onto the cloth. Dan hissed, stiffening and straightening his back into a rigid line.

“Shit, Phil, cold!”

I didn’t answer, gently cleaning the blood from his back and applying the band aid without saying a word. Dan sat still, probably knowing I was upset with him.

“Phil, I’m sorry, okay? It was an accident, I didn’t mean to fall.”

I didn’t know it was possible to feel equal parts anger and sympathy at someone, but I did. “That’s not why I’m upset, Dan!” I saw him stiffen again, and I knew Dan was as upset about this as I was.

“Then what? Why are you acting like-”

“You could have just asked!” I burst out, genuinely offended. “Just yelled and I would have come to help you. Do you not want my help? Do you not trust me or something?”

Dan turned to face me, mouth set in a firm line that told me he was forcing tears back. I wished I could see his eyes, because I was a firm believer in the saying the eyes are the windows to the soul. Dan’s soul was warm and dusted with gold just like his eyes, and I felt a pang in my chest at the thought of those eyes never seeing again, never sparkling with mischief or winking at inappropriate times or glistening with tears when Dan was happy. 

But his voice was enough to judge by, especially considering his answer. “Of course I trust you, Phil,” he said softly, and I knew if he could see he wouldn’t be looking at me anyway. “You’re the one person I do trust.”

I scooted closer to him on the sofa, putting an arm loosely around his shoulders. “Then why didn’t you call for me?” I asked, just as softly, trying to match his quiet, reserved tone.

“Because I’m a burden and I hate it.”

I squeezed his shoulders, hugging him to me. Despite clearing six foot by several inches, Dan seemed small in my arms. Small and innocent and scared. And it dawned on me that this was Dan Howell, unashamed harborer of severe insecurities and a healthy fear of rejection, one of the prominent causes of his existential crises. And I had to remind myself that Dan wasn’t trying to be difficult; he simply didn’t want to be seen as needy or desperate, even if he had good reason to be.

“Oh, Dan,” I murmured, knowing I had no reason to be making him feel like this. “You're not a burden. Hell, Dan, you're the opposite!”

He sniffed, still refusing to tilt his head up. “How can I be the opposite of a burden, when I can't do half of the things I used to be able to do? You have to help me with literally everything. You can't tell me that isn't a fucking pain in your ass.”

I wanted to laugh at his absurdity, but I didn't. Dan wasn't kidding, and I knew when to be as serious as he was.

“It absolutely is not. You know what? I'll prove it to you. Come on.” I grabbed his hand, leading him back to his room and sitting him down at the piano. He reached forward, his hand fumbling against a few keys and jumping when they clanged against his fingers.

“I have no bloody clue how to play the piano. But you do. So play.”

“Phil,” Dan protested, his fingers twitching but remaining in his lap. “I can't even see where the hell to put my hands!”

I lifted both of his hands, placing them at each end if the piano. He looked a bit silly, arms spread wide, but I had a plan.

“You don't need to see. You know which keys make noise; piano is a muscle memory instrument. So just pick a song and let your fingers do their thing.”

I saw the side of his mouth twitch, as it always did when I accidentally made a slight innuendo. He ran his hands across the keys a few times, letting his brain warm itself up, and began pressing keys. Soon a melody emerged from the jumble, a beautiful, bittersweet tune that entranced me despite the piano’s slight out-of-tuneness. Dan continued to play the song, letting it transform into another softer one, and I let my hands rest on his shoulders, squeezing them a little to show how proud of him I really was.

After the tune faded, Dan turned, reaching a hand forward hesitantly towards me. I turned my hand forward, letting him find it and hold it in his. “Thank you. I needed that.”

I smiled, even though he couldn't see it. “I told you you didn't need me for everything.”

Dan was quiet for a moment, mulling something over in his head. I let him think in silence, playing with his hand until he spoke. “Can we play Sims?”

I blinked, taken aback. “Um, sure. Now?”

He nodded, standing up and sort of awkwardly tugging me towards the general direction of the door.

“Are we filming it?” I asked, ever so slightly redirecting him towards the actual door, so he didn't walk into a wall.

“Yes.”

I shrugged, knowing Dan had his own plans and nothing would stop him at this point. I did, however, lead the way up to the office; there's no way Dan could have made it up those stairs alone.

It was half past eight in the morning when we finally got all the equipment set up, an early start for us, especially. We sat in our chairs, and Dan reached forward, bumping the camera slightly but managing to click it on correctly. Muscle memory, as I'd mentioned before.

“Hey, DanandPhilGames…”

“Question marks!” I chipped in, getting into this as much as possible, considering the time and occasion of this particular gaming episode.

“Why question marks, Phil?” Dan asks, sounding completely normal and relaxed. I laughed, remembering, as I did every time, how much fun filming with Dan could be.

“Well, number one, we have no plan for this video whatsoever, and number two, everyone's probably wondering why you have a bandage over your face.”

Dan pursed his lips, nodding in thoughtful agreement. “Ah, yes, well, you see guys, I'm a klutzy fucker who can't boil water without doing something stupid. Alas, I am momentarily blind! But don't panic; I can still manage to fuck up Dil’s life, too.”

I laughed, making Dan grin in response. “You can't say that twice in a row! I'm bleeping both of them.”

He would have rolled his eyes for sure if he could, but settled for naturally gesturing towards me and mouthing this guy at the camera. The effect was almost exactly the same.

“So, Philly, what's on the agenda for today?” Dan asked, clapping his hands and swiveling to face me. 

So, we were toying with the Phans today, as well. Very ambitious, Dan. “Well, I've been thinking, Tabitha is new to the family and doesn't have a birthday like Dil yet, so…”

Dan grinned at the camera, his face excited and resembling the one he makes when we redecorate Dil’s house.

“My God, that's bloody brilliant. I can't believe I didn't think of that. Righty-oh, how many simoleons do we have?”

I glanced at the amount.  
“304.”

Dan's brow furrowed. “What the hell? Where'd all our money go? Did you spend it on something?”

I gave the camera a little shake of my head and a grin. “Dan. We went to the spa, remember?”

He facepalmed, carefully avoiding hitting his eyes. “Right, yeah, I totally remembered.”

I rolled my eyes at him, shaking my head at the camera again. “What are you waiting for?” Dan asked, fumbling for the mouse and scooting it towards me,“Work those two lazy bitches.”

I laughed, taking the mouse and banting with Dan as we cued a work montage. Tabitha got a promotion, which pleased Dan, and we went along with Dil to work on the last day of the montage, extinguishing a fire in the lab before taking both Sims to the store for a ‘birthday present’ for Tabitha.

“Can we make them-”

“No!” Dan cut me off, laughing and shoving my shoulder a little. “You cannot make them woohoo on every surface, despite the achievement that would be unlocked by doing that.”

I gave him a half-hearted glare as he grinned mischievously at the camera. I knew he wanted to wink, or waggle his eyebrows, or something of that nature, but he settled for grinning, sending the exact same message as only Dan could. 

“But birthday sex, Dan. Come on.” 

That seemed to stump him, as he pursed his lips in thought for a long moment before giving in. “Oh, fine. One time and then we have to decorate the house.”

I giggled, knowing our audience would absolutely love this. We opted for a dark corner with clothing racks, and sure enough, the option was there.

“Should we make them try for a baby yet?” I asked, giving a cheeky wink to the camera.

Dan was appalled. “Are you mad? One, not in a shop!”

I cracked up, knowing someone would comment on how much of a cinnamon roll I was when I laughed, but I couldn't help it. Dan had always been able to make me nearly cry from laughter.

“And two, I'm pretty sure that isn't the present Dil had in mind to give her.”

I nodded, agreeing, but still laughing. As I clicked the option on the screen, the clothes racks rearranged themselves to where all you could see was clothes swinging on hangers.

“Oh my God Dan, they're actually doing it! They went behind the racks and the clothes are swinging and you conveniently can't see anything!”

Dan burst out laughing, leaning back in his chair and putting an arm over his mouth. Tipping back forward, he asked, “What are they doing now?”

I couldn't help giggling as I explained. “Tabitha is smoothing her hair down and Dil is scratching the back of his neck with one hand, and they’re faking nonchalance horribly.”

Dan grinned, bobbing his head and drawing the word yes out very long and quietly.  
“Be ashamed, you two.”

I grinned, getting back to clicking around the shop for an actual present. I explained to Dan what I was seeing, wanting him to take as much part in this as possible.

“There's a lovely pink dress that's really frilly…”

“Nah, not really Tabitha.”

“There's some shoes and kitchen stuff…”

“Mmm…”

“There's a drum set…”

Dan snapped his fingers, his face glowing wickedly. “Yes Phil! Can't you see Tabitha headbanging to some awful drumming??”

I shook my head, but I was smiling. “Dan, we just got her a guitar! And she levelled up and everything.” 

Dan clasped his hands together, leaning his head towards mine. “But Philly pweeeeease?”

I groaned, knowing I was already beat. Dan seemed to know it too, since he sat back in his chair, bouncing and grinning with excitement.

“Fine, but only because it's Tabitha's birthday. This is for her. It matches her skull T-shirt.”

Dan clapped his hands excitedly, and I bought the drum set in black and pink, knowing he would absolutely love it. It was even better than the bunny guitar, which I sold as soon as we clicked back to the house. I pouted at the camera as I did it, while Dan chattered about ‘winning’ this party. 

The party was hilarious as well, especially since we accidentally invited Mia Yang and Erica, who actually got into a fight with Tabitha at the party. We ended up with a gold medal this time, considering we could control another Sim and direct it to ‘compliment the birthday Sim’.

We ended the video with one of Dan's profound endings, clicking the camera off and both sighing as we did.

“That's going to be long as hell,” Dan sighed, rubbing his temples.

“And a bitch to edit,” I added, standing and waiting for Dan. But he didn't move, sitting stock-still with his hands pressed to the sides of his head.

“Dan?”

He shook his head slowly, and I sat down, rubbing his back with one of my hands. Tears started streaming down Dan's face in rivulets, silent but concerning nonetheless.

“Dan, bear, does it hurt?”

He nodded once, almost imperceptible except that I was looking for it. 

“Do you want your medicine?”

This time his head shake was a no, and I furrowed my eyebrows, confused. 

“But Dan, it'll help, and-”

“I don't like the way I feel when I take them, okay?

My hand faltered, my brain freezing with a lack of response to such honesty. I was silent for a moment before responding.

“Oh. Well, how do they make you feel?”

Dan sniffed, but I didn't think he was crying. He seemed uncomfortable, to say the least, which was his general demeanor whenever he was forced to talk about himself honestly.

“They make… they make my emotions, more clear, or something. And I don't like it, because I can't ignore them.”

I nodded, making a sound of understanding when I remembered he couldn't see me. I was still rubbing his back, which he seemed to realize the same time I did, because he stiffened and stood, reaching for me.

“I'll take them tonight, just… not now. Please.”

I rubbed at my face, my eyes itching. “Okay, Dan. Okay.”

The video took all day to edit, especially because I did it on my laptop, not wanting to let Dan out of my sight. He listened to the TV, twirling a pen between his fingers because Dan always had to be doing something with his hands. He kept messing with his bandage as well, but I didn’t tell him to stop. He had it hard enough as it was, without me bossing him around.

I had never been particularly religious, but I prayed right then and there, without Dan’s ever-watching eyes to see me.

If you’re listening, whoever you are, please let Dan be able to see again. Please. I’m sorry for everything I’ve ever done and please, please please please let my best friend be able to see me again.

Dan  
When eight o’clock rolled around, I knew what was coming. There was no way Phil would let me skip my medication, as much as I begged and pleaded against it. And the fact of the matter was, it hurt. A lot. And I knew I needed the medication. But that didn’t make me want to take it any more. It was an act of necessity.

However, one thing about Phil Lester was that he made things as easy as he possibly could. So what if that meant researching the pills and deeming them safe to crush, crushing them into a glass of tea, and cooking me food so I could take them without getting sick? Phil would, and did, do all of it. And I couldn’t do anything more than thank him, which seemed entirely too little of a repaying gesture, a few minutes after I swallowed the drink. Whatever they had prescribed me was strong, and while it killed the pain like flicking a switch, it also simultaneously heightened and clouded my brain and senses. So while I knew I should go to sleep and shut the hell up before my big mouth got me in trouble, that didn’t stop my big mouth from acting first.

“Do you hate me?”

I felt Phil’s surprise from beside me, in the tension of his body and the confusion in his answer.  
“What? No! Why would I hate you?”

“Because I’m a mess and I’m needy and I’m dramatic and I’m bossy and I’m self-depreciating and I’m stupid and I’m not worth anyone’s time and-”

“Dan, stop!”  
I clamped my mouth shut around my words, a tremendous effort considering my brain was whirring at a thousand miles an hour. Phil’s voice was a calm salve against the chaos in my head, and I focused on that, rather than the inner turmoil that never really left me alone if I wasn’t with Phil.

“Dan, you are none of those things. And before you say you are, if you are, it’s not a bad thing. Okay? I don’t hate you because of those things, hell, I don’t hate you at all! The opposite, actually.”

I frowned, struggling to understand. “You love me?”

Phil was quiet for too long, so I hugged my knees to my chest and tapped the rhythm of a Fall Out Boy song on my legs. It was the only thing I could do to distract myself while I waited for Phil’s response. If he responded at all. I wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t.

“What would you say if I did?”

My strumming fingers paused, ruining the beat. It was my turn to think, and I had to choose my words carefully. Or, well, I knew I should. That didn’t mean I actually did, though.

“I’d ask why. Because I-”

I snapped my mouth shut so fast my teeth clacked against each other. I couldn’t say it. Phil would hate me even more if I said it.

“Because you what?” Phil asked, so gently and kindly that my head hurt from the strain of not spilling my guts to him, right now.

“You’re easier to talk to when I can’t see you.” I laughed breathlessly, huffing out that little string of words and shutting up immediately after. I knew Phil was smiling, but he was still waiting for a response. I reached forward, searching for his hand, because maybe if I focused on it the talking would be easier. He held it forward, and I hung onto it like a lifeline as I finally told Phil what I’d been bottling up since 2009.

“Because I don’t think I deserve you. You deserve someone who matches you, not the opposite of you. I’m a mess and I’m depressing, but you’re so calm and collected and bright that I just basically rain on your parade. But that doesn’t stop me from loving you, though. Because you’re Phil and how could someone not love you? I’ve tried to ignore it and get over it because it’s probably silly to think you’d feel the same, but I can’t. And now you’re dealing with this and you’re so good to me and I hate not being able to show my gratitude. So I’m just sorry.”

Once again, Phil was quiet. But he was playing with my hand too, so he wasn’t mad, at least. Or he didn’t seem to be. I waited for him to speak for so long that I started dozing off, but his voice, as soft as it was, snapped me back to reality.

“You’re wrong. About it all.”

I waited for him to continue, to collect his thoughts, because I’d heard the tone in his voice and I knew he was absolutely, one hundred percent serious. And he most definitely didn’t need me mouthing off in the meantime. I simply tried to focus on our intertwined hands and ignore the swirling in my head, the confusion over what Phil just said, and the fear that tainted everything I couldn’t see.

“Dan, let me tell you something. You’re the only one who who hates you. You go through your life thinking that people think you’re trash and that you’re not good enough and that you’re a failure, but you’re absolutely wrong. People don’t think that at all. They think the opposite.   
And so do I. I don’t think you’re trash; I think you’re unique. That’s one of the things I like most about you, the fact that you’re considered relatable when you’re actually so different it’s mesmerizing. I don’t think you’re a failure at all; in fact, without you, I'd be a failure. And I most certainly do not think you're not good enough for anyone. I don't think anyone could be too good for you. Let alone me.”

I nodded, although I still didn't fully believe him. My hands tightened against his as I felt him shift to pull them from my grasp, because I was honestly afraid he was about to leave me, despite his words. He squeezed my hands once, twice, and then pulled them away, making my heart flutter in panic. But he didn't move away, as I had feared.Instead, he slowly traced his hand up my arm, over my shoulder, skipping my neck and resting on my face.

“I hope I'm good enough for you.”

And then Phil's lips were moving against mine. 

It was odd, kissing my best friend, especially when I couldn't see him. But at the same time, the inability to see made it better, allowed me to focus more intently on the surprising warmth of his lips and the feeling of his hands in my hair, gently tugging me backwards so I was laying on the sofa. It allowed me to kiss him back with confidence, with need, because I had been waiting for this for nearly seven years. I wasn't about to let it go to waste.

I'm not sure how long we kissed, but my brain was spinning even more violently than before when Phil sat back, both of us panting. His hands were resting on my chest, and I reached up and held them, knowing he could feel my racing heart and not caring at all.

“Can you stay with me tonight?” I asked, the plead in my voice clear as day. I knew Phil was smiling, and if I could see him I knew his face would melt my heart.   
“Yeah, I’ll stay. Out here?”

I nodded, too tired to move anywhere else. Phil lay down beside me, wrapping his arm around my middle and pulling me backwards toward him. I sighed contentedly, falling asleep enveloped in warmth for the first time in a long while.

Phil   
“Everyone loved the Sims video,” I told Dan the next morning at breakfast. I had uploaded it before we'd gone to bed, not bothering to look at the tweets and messages we had received until now. There had always been a crap ton of them, but there were even more now. 

“What's everyone saying?” Dan asked, the nervousness that was always present in his voice when asking about feedback amplified by the difference in this video. “Read me a few.”

“So cute!, very brave Dan., is this the first time you've gotten to control it, Phil?, is it possible to be heart eyes Howell with a bandage over your eyes? YES., Phil's so patient, love him hard Dan., can both of you have my babies?”

Dan burst out laughing, nearly choking on the milk from his cereal. “There it is! Always one.”  
I giggled, typing responses to a few of the tweets and scrolling on Tumblr for the phanart that no doubt was created by now. The amount of worry and pride in the Phandom was astounding, and made me love our fans even more. They were worried about Dan and proud of us both, and it made my heart squeeze to know that so many people loved us no matter what.

“Phil?”

I looked up, and Dan was facing my direction almost exactly, chin tilted up in confidence.  
“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

It was as unexpected as it was sincere, and I reached across the table, squeezing his hand because he couldn't see me smile.

“I love you too.”

Dan  
I had always hated doctors, but for once in my life I was more afraid of myself than them. It had been three months since I had burned my eyes, and I had been following every treatment and piece of advice that was given to me very diligently. With Phil's help, of course.

“Alright, Daniel,” Dr. Key announced as she walked in, clapping her hands. “Are you ready?”  
I nodded, swallowing my fear and clutching Phil's hand for dear life.  
“You understand how the results may differ, correct?”

I nodded again, unable to speak around the lump in my throat. Phil rubbed my hand soothingly, but to no avail. I knew there was a possibility that I could be permanently blind, but there was an equally good possibility that I could be completely healed. I hadn't tried to open my eyes for a month, as instructed by Dr. Key herself, so this would be the deciding test.  
The thing was, once I got used to it, being blind wasn't completely awful. For one thing, it made me appreciate my other senses a lot more. The smell of shampoo after a bath. The sound of Phil clicking his tongue as he edited a video. The feeling of the furniture in our house and Phil's ever present hand in mine, or running through my hair, or massaging my neck after I'd eventually let him touch it without punching him on accident.

However, the one thing I missed, more than anything else, was to be able to see when we made videos. Phil did a beautiful job in describing what was happening on the Sims and Undertale and Until Dawn, which we'd started recently. But it added extra time to the videos, and Undertale and Until Dawn took an hour on a normal day. So, yeah, I wished I could see for that. Not to mention the lack of danisnotonfire and DanandPhilGames videos, which were killing the Phandom more quickly rather than slowly.

It's killing me too, guys.

Dr.Key's hands on my face didn't make me jump, as I had gotten used to surprises by now. She paused before unraveling the bandages, letting me take a moment to prepare myself. So I took a deep breath, steeling myself by death-gripping Phil's poor hand, and felt the bandages fall away from my face.

“Okay, you can open your eyes now,” Dr.Key said, authoritative but gentle. I didn't want to, I really didn't, because if I couldn't see… that was it. I would be legally pronounced blind, and nothing could change after that. This was the moment on the cusp of possibilities, that anything-could-happen moment. I normally lived for this moment. Not now, though, not at all.

“Dan.”  
Phil's soft voice caught my attention, and I felt his fingers on my chin as he tilted my head towards him.

“Look at me, bear. Please.”

And the little waver in his voice at the very end of his sentence broke me. My eyelashes fluttered, for the first time in more than a month, and I winced at the brightness. For a long moment, panic consumed me, because all I could see was bright white light and blurry shapes. But then I heard a switch being flipped, and the first thing I could focus on in that dim, still-painful light was Phil's bright, glistening blue eyes.  
I swear it was the most beautiful thing I ever saw.

Phil wasn't sure if I could see yet, though, so the glistening in his eyes turned into water pooling at his lids, and then into a few drops spilling down his cheeks.

“Can you see?”

I smiled, and I saw him smile too, and then I was crying and he was crying and the doctor was laughing because I was hissing at the stinging of the tears and the light.

“I'll turn the light down and let you two have a moment, yeah? Call if you need me, sweetie.”

I smiled at her in thanks, or at least in her general direction, since I was still finding it difficult to focus. When the light was all but shut off, I sighed in relief, resting my head on Phil's shoulder.  
“I missed seeing you smile,” I murmured, thanking everything I believed in that I was given this small miracle.

“I missed seeing you smile, too.”

And just for that I grinned, big and broad and bright, and Phil laughed, and my life was finally okay.


End file.
